


halcyon days

by jarofclay



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, kuroko no camping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofclay/pseuds/jarofclay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some days, when he’s surrounded by their voices and their faces are the only trait in the landscape not fading into a chaotic blur, that if he shuts his eyes and asks himself what a perfect youth is supposed to look like, all he can see behind closed eyelids is himself, standing exactly where he is now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	halcyon days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steamedmantou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamedmantou/gifts).



> SPLENDID AOKURO DAY TO EVERYONE!  
> Enjoy this Kuroko no Camping!fic with Kuroko thinking too much and as usual, boys being boys. Because boys being boys is the best thing in fics after boys being gay.  
> (This is the fic where it’s painfully clear that I keep reading KnB mostly because I want them to be very happy and very much together again and in platonic love with Kuroko for the rest of their lives.)
> 
> Betaed by sui (Airway Static on FFnet) and atsueshi and Takao’s song by amcw177 (I asked her for ONE VERSE and SHE WROTE A WHOLE SONG I DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE IS)

 

 

 

There are some days, when he’s surrounded by their voices and their faces are the only trait in the landscape not fading into a chaotic blur, that if he shuts his eyes and asks himself what a perfect youth is supposed to look like, all he can see behind closed eyelids is himself, standing exactly where he is now.

 

 

 

“This is excruciatingly boring,” Daiki says with a huff, promptly followed by Taiga’s trademark snort that always comes hand-in-hand with Daiki’s antics.

“Shut up. This isn’t half bad.”

But Taiga visibly fidgets in his seat on the damp grass, feet dangling restlessly in the deep water and fingers itchy around the handle of the fishing rod.

“Because you’re a boring guy, of course you’d like something like this.” Daiki’s bare foot sprays mindless splashes on the water’s surface in front of him as his free hand stifles a yawn and the other haphazardly shakes the rod around. “Are we really gonna go a week without basketball?”

“Don’t you start with the drama, Dai-chan. I remember someone being overly pumped up at the idea of fishing competitions and not bringing food because ‘we could feed on the results’.”

Daiki offers Satsuki an unintelligible grunt. “But clearly this lake is void of fish, so yeah. So much for that.”

“I’m sure they don’t come just because they don’t like you,” Taiga interjects. “Stop with the splashing, dimwit, it’s quite counterproductive.”

Himuro-san’s eyes flutter closed with a core-deep sigh. “Thank god we brought food.”

Propped on one hand, with the rod carelessly kept upright only by his thighs, Takao scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we should go back and help Shin-chan with the tents. Do you think he knows how to pitch one without staking his precious fingers in the process? I don’t know how much he likes the idea of using a hammer. Murasakibara didn’t look like he wanted to do anything about that.”

“Even pitching tents sounds more fun,” Daiki complains and predictably Taiga snorts again.

“I’m sorry. I figured it would have been funnier,” Tetsuya says.

In unison, all their heads turn to him; then to Daiki, mechanical and oddly demanding.

Their knees are so close that Tetsuya perceives the heat radiating from Daiki’s bare skin. He could almost swear they weren’t  _this_  close before; he prays he isn’t so hopelessly gone that he draws closer to wherever Daiki is without realizing.

“Well,” Daiki mutters as he frowns defensively at him, “it’s not  _that_  b—”

“Maybe we’re not doing it right,” Ryouta interrupts, temporarily snapping out of his soundproof bubble of abysmal concentration, looking faintly disgruntled. Tetsuya guesses he’s having a hard time accepting his own failure. “Maybe we should, like…” He swings the rod tentatively and the thin fishing line follows the movement obediently, wavering sinuously over the water. “Copy the movements of the fish. So that the bait looks more rea—”

“Copy my ass, Kise,” Daiki snorts as he gives a hard push at Ryouta’s back and shoves him into the water.

When Ryouta comes back to surface with wet clothes sticking to his shoulders and a gargling squeak that gets lost in the loud cackling, he rubs the water out of his eyes and presents Daiki a condescending smirk.

“I’ve spent all my middle school years doing that. I’ve had enough of your ass.”

As Daiki pulls his shirt off and jumps in the water to drown Ryouta, Tetsuya smiles serenely.

 

 

 

( _Almost_  perfect.)

 

 

 

“What’s wrong, Tetsu-kun? You look sad.”

Arms perched on his knees, Tetsuya feels a bit jealous of Taiga as he watches from the pebbly shore him and Daiki, half-immersed in the dark water, pushing against each other with their hands, legs clad in soaked swimming shorts and feet slipping backwards on the rocks underwater.

“I’m not sad,” he tells her honestly. “It’s just that…”

Daiki shouts a loud, meaningless insult and Taiga growls something feral back, putting more force into his hold and making Daiki stumble in surprise. He regains his position again, the broad smirk on his lips almost splitting his face.

“…That I’m a greedy person, Momoi-san.” He doesn’t need to check to know she’s observing him, listening carefully to every word because that’s one of the many talents of Satsuki. “A year ago I believed that all I could want was to see Aomine-kun playing with a smile again. I had that, and much more. I really thought I couldn’t ask for anything else. But… I guess that’s not true.”

As the water splashes in droplets around them and slides down their naked chests, Daiki’s leg swiftly crooks behind Taiga’s and pulls. With a surprised yelp, Taiga falls back and under the surface right before Daiki thrusts one fist into the air in smug victory.

Tetsuya leisurely draws his knees together and squints at the sun. “I want more than that; I want so muchmore. I’m  _always_  asking for more, when I should just be happy with what I have.”

He finally turns to Satsuki then, rests his cheek on his crossed forearms and looks at her sweet, damp eyes smiling at him helplessly.

“Because this time I’m asking for the wrong thing,” he murmurs, easily keeping the muscles of his face relaxed because this is a familiar feeling, one he’s learnt to deal with long ago. “And there’s nothing I can do because… things simply aren’t like that. I’m afraid it’s not something I can achieve just by not giving up.”

Her hand settles delicately on the side of his head, fingers gently threading through his locks as she grins at him so encouragingly that Tetsuya’s heart stirs eagerly with a flicker of unfounded hope.

“He’s gonna understand someday, Tetsu-kun.”

When he gazes back at the lake, he catches Daiki watching him intently, tanned features an unreadable, stern mask, just before he steadily strides out of the water looking his usual colossal and mighty self; without a word he reaches Tetsuya, nimbly hauls him away on his shoulder while ignoring Tetsuya’s uncharacteristic yelp of surprise and, under Taiga’s approving smirk and Satsuki’s laughter, tosses him into the lake.

 

 

 

Sometimes he wonders if he’s the only one feeling the way he feels nowadays – if the others too are happy with what they have and have fought and longed for; if what he did served its purpose; if his choices brought the right outcomes or he’s just being delusional, thinking far too highly of himself and his attempts at giving everyone back what they had lost or never had; if a mirage of what he hopes is real for them is shading the truth from his eyes.

“Where’s Himuro-san?”

Atsushi, lying lazily in a shaded spot of the grassy slope near the lake, glances up before taking another bite of his Maiubo. “Off somewhere with Kaga-chin. Having one of their bonding moments.”

Nodding to himself, Tetsuya takes a seat beside Atsushi’s head and crosses his legs, joining him in gazing at the panorama that shines green and blue between the trees’ trunks. If not for the nearby sound of Shintarou’s voice insulting Ryouta for installing the gas cylinders wrong, the chirping of birds and the rustle of the wind-shaken crowns would be deeply relaxing.

Atsushi drags himself up onto his elbows and his huge hand reaches to his right to pick up a new Maiubo from his bag of sweets. He mutely throws it at Tetsuya.

Tetsuya thanks him as he catches the snack and calmly unwraps it. When he’s about to eat it, the gnawing doubt stills his arm, the snack a breath away from his mouth. He clears his throat. “Are you having fun, Murasakibara-kun?”

“I thought there was gonna be more food, actually.”

“No, I mean,” Tetsuya licks his lips in thought, searching for the right words, “in general.”

Atsushi grimaces in blatant annoyance as he sits up and harshly pushes the hand still holding the uneaten Maiubo towards Tetsuya’s open mouth, unmercifully shoving the entire snack in. “A little brat like you should really stop with this stuff. Peeve.”

But between Tetsuya’s gagging sounds, as he coughs and tries to say he’s choking, he thinks he hears Atsushi add in a mumble, “You’ve done enough.”

 

 

 

He thinks his life is granting him so many second chances he’s having a hard time keeping up with them, being certain that this time he will get it right. Some of them are possibilities he never even hoped or cared to have – chances he lost because they were young and stupid and couldn’t see farther than the tip of their noses – until he saw them standing again in front of him, ripe enough to shine with a whole new light, making him wonder how many things he may have carelessly lost on the road without knowing they were precious in the first place.

 

 

 

He tries his best to stifle the laugh that bubbles up his chest as Ryouta finishes telling him a very amusing story about him and Kaijou’s captain. He bends down to take another twig from the leafy ground and, when he turns around again, he sees Ryouta standing feet away from him with his bare arms full of dirty twigs and a bitter smile on his lips that doesn’t really fit his face.

“Why weren’t we like this in middle school?”

Tetsuya scratches the side of his nose with the free hand and pretends to think for a moment. “Because you were an arrogant idiot, Kise-kun.”

“What?! Kurokocchi, why do you always say hurtful things to me?” Ryouta wails loudly and Tetsuya is so used to it he doesn’t even flinch at the burst of noise. But Ryouta quickly pipes down and after some time, as his fingers fiddle distractedly with the branches, he smiles cheekily.

“Says the one whose tunnel vision could track only Aomine,” he says – before having second thoughts and adding with a soft sigh, “Not that now is too different. But then, it was  _tragic_. You really were like a sunflower.”

He smiles inwardly. Of course Ryouta would understand. He is as good at understanding the feelings of people he values as he was at mindlessly ignoring them when he didn’t care.

“I guess we were both kind of idiots, at the time,” he kindly concedes.

“And what are we, now?”

When Tetsuya looks up at him from his search of wood, he finds Ryouta with a too-serious, apprehensive expression on his fair face.

“We are good friends, I suppose,” he states coolly and enjoys the other’s widening eyes, even if he believes Ryouta has no reason to feel so surprised. “When you stop with the exaggerated whining.”

Against his expectations, Ryouta doesn’t moan in protest; he chews absentmindedly on his lower lip, sizing Tetsuya up for a few, endless seconds before reaching some final, personal conclusion and closing the distance in a streak of confidence, freeing with some difficulty one hand from the stack of wood just to drop it unceremoniously on Tetsuya’s head.

When Tetsuya rolls his eyes but doesn’t swat his hand away as he gently ruffles his hair, Ryouta grins blithely, pleased with something only he knows of. So he retrieves his hand and goes back to fetching twigs while telling another one of his Kaijou stories.

 

 

 

At first he has the neat impression he’s walking the fine line between two realities, snatching for himself only the best of both. Out of force of habit, he acts like a tightrope walker: advancing on a rope stretched over two separate worlds, balancing himself with caution in the belief he can’t live content on only one side of it… when in truth – he understands it, in the end – it’s just a bigger, unique one that lies around and under him and in which there is everything he needs.

 

 

 

“You have a nice voice?” Atsushi chimes in, half in statement and half in question, and Tetsuya feels an unjustified wave of pride splashing against the inside of his ribcage because he knows it takes a lot to surprise Atsushi.

“Where the heck did you learn that?!” Ryouta complains like he’s personally offended. “So many hidden talents, Kagamicchi! Who knew you had more than the spirit of a loud, grumpy bear in you.”

“So you can’t just jump into space,” Shintarou grants grudgingly, the reddish flames of the bonfire reflecting in his glasses as he tilts his head up and takes a sip of his Coke.

Taiga’s grip on the handle of his guitar tightens warningly until his knuckles glow white in the dark of the night. “Just… fuck you all, okay? I’m not Aomine, I know how to be good at something that’s not basketball.”

“Who’s ever said you are any good at basketball, though,” Daiki flatly retaliates, making a show of himself picking his ear. “He was talking about _jumps_.”

Sucking on his spoon, Tetsuya hums, tight-lipped, his disagreement. “Excuse you, Kagami-kun is very good at basketball.” At his prompt offer of a silent thumbs-up, Taiga smirks thankfully at him.

“Don’t listen to them, Kagamin,” Satsuki wheedles him, moving her camp chair closer until she can slide her arms around Taiga’s buffer one, her chest effectively squashing it in a predatory hug. In the span of seconds, Taiga looks like he’s just swallowed a handful of red peppers. “Tell me all and more about your… hidden talents.”

“Satsuki, what the fuck!” Daiki yells at his friend in deep aggravation. “Get a room, I don’t wanna hear you say stuff like that! Since when did you become so  _lecherous_?”

She sticks out her tongue and haughtily flips back her long pink hair. “Shut it, idiot.”

Himuro-san chortles eerily as he appraises Taiga’s amusing level of embarrassed distress. “And one would say you’ve overcome that phase after living with Alex for years.”

In front of Taiga’s undefined mumbling, Satsuki just beams candidly.

“Okay, give it to me now,” Takao demands, jumping up to take the guitar and then settling back down on his chair, ankle propped on one knee and guitar nestled in his lap. Tetsuya wonders if the mischievous glint in his onyx eyes is given by the crackling fire or is a natural facet of Takao’s gaze.

“So, since once, long ago, Shin-chan confessed to me he would have liked to thank Kuroko wholeheartedly for teaching him a valuable lesson, but he never could because of his tsundere-business—”

“I didn’t say that,” Shintarou croaks between his impetuous fit of coughs and the sound of his hand whacking his chest to help himself breathe again, a forgotten can rolling on the ground. He avoids Tetsuya’s confused stare as if it can spread the plague. “I didn’t say  _any_  of that.” 

“—and I too want to thank you for making him less of a prick on a pedestal enough for us to befriend him and find out he’s actually  _not_  half as bad as we thought  _aaand_  for inviting me to this camping week even though I’m not a weirdo like you all—”

“You’re doing a good job at behaving like one, don’t worry,” Ryouta waves a hand at him in benevolent endorsement. A courteous nod of the head is Takao’s grateful response.

“For all this,” he continues, “I’m going to improvise a song for Kuroko. Imagine it’s Shin-chan singing, though.”

Following Shintarou’s steps, Tetsuya almost chokes on his yoghurt.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he deadpans, looking right into Takao’s hawkish eyes, trying to convey all of his vast disapproval. “And I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

Takao smiles kindly. “Well I’m gonna sing it anyway.”

“Please?”

“Oh, shut up and listen,” Daiki chuckles as he and Ryouta lean back on their hands with similar sets of warm, lopsided grins. They look weirdly interested in Takao’s performance.

Beside him in the circle they form around the camp fire, Shintarou mutters with a pained grimace, “Brace yourself for what’s about to come.” He doesn’t know if Shintarou picking up his fallen spoon from the ground is supposed to count as a form of apology. From Shintarou’s gravity as he does it and his quickly added, “I’ll check your horoscope tomorrow,” however, Tetsuya gathers so.

On his other side, Taiga cranes his neck towards him and shares an empathic look along with a light punch in the shoulder. There are times when Tetsuya doesn’t know what he would do without Taiga’s support.

By the very first verses –  _“You came into our lives deserving some high-fives, but no one had a clue because no one fucking saw you”_  – Daiki and Ryouta’s cheeks already threaten to split open with their shit-eating grins; but at the refrain, sung painfully off key, Taiga and even  _Shintarou_  have a hard time keeping their laughter in. His attempt at using misdirection to disappear into the woods, though, gets quickly blocked by a hand catching his wrist.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Taiga chuckles in a low voice as he forces him back into his chair. “Even though they all…” he trails off, looking grumpily embarrassed and Tetsuya doesn’t think it’s still because of Satsuki. “Listen, Takao is not singing only in Midorima’s behalf. So suck it up, partner, and enjoy the attention. They’re  _your_  friends, by the way; you brought this on yourself.”

There are also times Tetsuya spends entire minutes plotting out sweet revenge against his best friends without regretting his mischievousness one bit.

-

When he opens his eyes, at a loss as to why he woke up in the middle of the night, his sight drowns in the reddish dark of his tent’s walls.

It takes some seconds and the help of the dim light coming from the table lamp outside for him to blink the drowsiness far enough from his eyes to discern the figure discreetly moving around their sleeping bags.

Almost blended into the blackness with his dark skin and darker pajamas, Daiki daintily straddles Taiga’s snoring figure, pinning one hand above Taiga’s head with his own and holding a bowl full of water in the other. The soft humming of Takao’s new song vibrates deep in his vocal chords and despite the words –  _“And we thank you a lot for tolerating our shit even though you’re not as fit”_  – it sounds so nice and soothing that slumber claws violently at Tetsuya’s senses, begging him to go back to sleep while listening to it.

“Aomine-kun,” he whispers instead.

Daiki jerks his head towards him; the water in the transparent bowl sways dangerously, barely under the rim.

“Uhm,” he murmurs, eyes wide and hand comically petrified in the air, still clutching Taiga’s wrist. “I can explain.”

Rubbing his eyes takes a bigger effort than he had expected. “There’s no need, Aomine-kun.”

“I mean, it’s camping, right?” Daiki says defensively as he mindlessly resumes his misdeeds. “Only idiots sleep this soundly during camping trips.”

“I was sleeping,” Tetsuya mentions to him.

Daiki half-shrugs one shoulder. Placing the bowl on the ground beside Taiga’s hip, he dunks the other’s whole hand in the water. “Not this soundly.”

“Aominecchi, can you  _stop_  ogling Kurokocchi like a pervert and get a mo—oh.”

Ryouta’s surprised head magically appears at the unzipped entrance of his and Taiga’s tent. He makes a face when he notices Tetsuya is awake and pointedly ignores Daiki looking daggers at him in order to show a determined interest in Tetsuya. “Kurokocchi, so nice to see you’re awake! Join us in this secret mission?”

“I wasn’t ogling you,” Daiki tells Tetsuya with excessive fervor, brows knit. “Seriously.”

“I can see that. Kise-kun, stop saying unnecessary things.”

Ryouta’s chuckle sounds vaguely strained. “Right, right. Bad joke, ha-ha. I’m gonna wait outside, okay?”

As Daiki finishes his work with some artistic smear of honey on Taiga’s face, Tetsuya stares quietly at him from inside his sleeping bag, his mind drifting drowsily from thought to thought until he finds himself wondering how it would feel to have Daiki straddling  _his_  lap and pinning  _his_  wrists over his head.

His need for fresh air is suddenly more compelling than the need for sleep.

“I’ll come with you.”

Daiki, painfully clueless, grins at him appraisingly and exits the tent first. While gathering his strength to do the same thing, in all the rustling of his sleeping bag Tetsuya almost misses Ryouta’s muffled yelp and hiss of, “I’m sorry, okay?!”

When the three of them are all outside, in the middle of the large circle of their tents, Ryouta is about to say something, flashlight lighting his face disturbingly from beneath, but the noise of two zippers being opened makes him click his jaw shut instantly.

Almost simultaneously and on opposite sides of the circular campsite, Takao and Satsuki stumble out of their tents like two uncoordinated zombies. Satsuki doesn’t seem too surprised by their presence as she blearily drags her feet to them in her white panties and tank top, a shower of pink hair waving in the hot windy night. Ryouta gulps noisily. Takao, on the other hand, seems thoroughly despondent, or so the furrowed corner of his mouth suggests.

“Damn,” he whines. “I really hoped you would be sleeping.”

“Tell me about that,” Daiki snorts dismally, thrusting an accusing thumb in Ryouta’s direction. “I went for him first and I caught him rummaging in his suitcase in search of the toothpaste.”

Takao stares at them like he’s dealing with two disappointing kids. “You’re not very creative, are you?”

“So much noise,” Satsuki mumbles as she rests her lolling head on Daiki’s shoulder. “You have the grace of an elephant, Dai-chan.” In response, Daiki takes a heartless step to the side, leaving an unbalanced Satsuki swaying on her feet unstably.

“Did you do something to Midorimacchi already?”

All the foxiness of Takao’s spirit gets enclosed in an eloquent, toothy grin, fingers proudly showing a ‘victory’ sign. “Of course! But he’s gonna kill me if he finds me in the tent when he wakes up, so I think I’m gonna invite myself into your tent, Kise. Akashi only arrives tomorrow, anyway.”

Ryouta snickers in delight. “My tent humbly welcomes anyone who’s pledged their life to Midorimacchi’s pestering.”

They turn towards the last un-profaned tent, judgingly eyeing the entrance and listening thoughtfully to the snores thundering inside the synthetic periwinkle walls.

Despite her sleepiness, Satsuki has obviously caught the gist of what they’re set to do. “I don’t know about him… won’t he kill you?”

“Really? I’m presently more afraid of Shin-chan.”

“Because you’ve never seen a pissed-off Murasakicchi,” Ryouta informs him with an edge of anxiety painting his voice and a distant look in his amber eyes. He barely suppresses a shiver. “Compared to him, Midorimacchi is more like a fussy cat with smoothed claws.”

“What about stealing all his candies?” Takao offers with the nonchalance of one who’s already in the middle of an innocent brainstorm of endless possibilities. He does sound like the creative type, Tetsuya thinks.

“Whoa there.” Daiki raises his palms in a peculiar attempt to simmer Takao’s ardor down, looking quite appalled at the mere idea. “Are you downright  _insane_? You can’t steal Murasakibara’s  _candies_.”

“Do you remember the Teikou years, Aomine-kun?” For a moment, Tetsuya can’t help but bask in how fast Daiki’s oddly attentive gaze switches to him, his barely parted lips looking like they were about to blurt out something that died on them. He has to blink a few times to find his line of thought again. “Those days you lost your break snacks… or when you came out of the shower and all your clothes were gone? Those kind of things? Usually it was Murasakibara-kun.”

Daiki’s attention right away turns into utter, outraged shock. “What?! I thought it was Kise!”

“You always knew when it was me. I couldn’t help but stick super-close to enjoy the reactions at their best.” Ryouta sighs heavily at the memories, before tossing an accusing, shocked glare at Daiki. “Wait, was this the reason why you pulled so many pranks on me?!”

“That  _bitch_.” Fist punching his palm so hard Tetsuya’s sure it  _must_  have hurt, Daiki’s scowl settles into stark determination and Ryouta’s lament goes completely ignored. “You know what? This is time for  _revenge_.”

As he whirls on his heels and stomps off in Atsushi’s tent’s direction like a vengeful demon, Ryouta shakes his head in contempt.

“Way to go, Kurokocchi. We’ve just lost a man.”

Satsuki appears more awake now and keenly interested all of a sudden. “Is that even true?”

“Sometimes it was me,” Tetsuya admits in a murmur and Takao chuckles, captivated, as Tetsuya’s shoulder welcomes a series of his appreciative pats.

“Some nice manipulative streak you have there, Kuroko.”

In nervous silence, with crossed arms and at a safe distance, they all watch Daiki guardedly raising the external cloth, unzipping the entrance of the tent, venturing into it with half of his body and then stilling, only one long leg sticking out of it and staying there, foot lolling a bit on the ground, scratching clumps of earth with the heel.

“What the hell is he doing,” Ryouta wonders evenly.

His question is quickly answered by Daiki coming out again in full view of the light of the table lamp, expression annoyed and hands juggling a bunch of jumbo wrapped sweets.

“Fucking  _Himuro_ ,” Daiki replies to their questioning faces. “He was reading – more like guarding Murasakibara’s snacks, I’d say. Saying if we do something to them we’ll have to face the apocalypse, bah! But we made a deal: I wasn’t going to come back later if he gave me a handful of these.” Daiki proudly displays his prize and starts handing them one each.

When Tetsuya grabs the flying snack directed toward him, he finds in his hands a familiar candy.

“I asked for vanilla,” Daiki explains as he looks away; he pushes one into his mouth whole and uncivilly munches on it, mouth half-open and puffy cheeks making him look ridiculous and cute at the same time – although Tetsuya suspects he’s being partial; he’s pretty sure Satsuki, standing beside him with quite the disgusted face, wouldn’t define Daiki as cute, right now.

Ryouta stares, appalled at both of them, his jaw hanging open and looking stupid. Snapping out of it, he points a rebuking finger at Tetsuya.

“You send him to his death; he comes back bearing vanilla gifts for you.” He brings a hand to his heart in his usual histrionic way and fakes a sorrowful sob. “If this is not  _love_!”

Tetsuya and Daiki simultaneously sock him in his face with the candies’ balled wrappings.

Satsuki eats her own unhurriedly, with a finesse misplaced amongst them. She gulps the bite down before asking, “So what? I’ve completely woken up now, I can’t go back to sleep. Wanna go to the lake?”

While Takao and Ryouta nod enthusiastically at the idea of plunging into freezing water at three in the morning, Tetsuya shakes his head and tiredly promises Satsuki and a dispirited Ryouta that maybe tomorrow will do. He doesn’t really mean it but Satsuki smiles at him, and Ryouta looks satisfied enough before disappearing with the others outside the clearing and in the darkness of the trees. Surprisingly, Daiki chooses to stay with him.

They stroll over to Tetsuya’s tent, walking side by side in a pleasant silence, casting long shadows on the grass they walk on in the light of the table lamp. In front of the entrance, to the sound of Kagami’s buzzing snoring, Tetsuya’s steps halt. He opens his mouth to say his goodnight but Daiki interrupts him on the first syllable by loudly clicking his tongue, hand swiftly flying to the side to wrap around Tetsuya’s wrist.

“ _Ahhh_ ,” he lets out in a frustrated groan and Tetsuya can’t understand if he’s pained or angry or both. “Come on.”

He takes a few strides to the right, pulling Tetsuya alongside him and Tetsuya can’t help but follow, stumbling awkwardly on his feet before adjusting to Daiki’s pace. But from what little of Daiki’s face he can see, he doesn’t look angry. With his eyes downcast and taut, broad shoulders underneath his black T-shirt, he seems enveloped in an aura of tense resolution.

He bumps into the other’s back as Daiki slows down and turns around. Tetsuya wavers a bit under Daiki’s serious blue stare before commenting matter-of-factly, “This is  _your_  tent.”

Daiki snorts softly. “No shit, Sherlock.”

It’s difficult to understand Daiki’s subtle ways so late at night. Tetsuya sighs demurely and fights back a yawn. “I kind of want to return to my sleeping bag, Aomine-kun,” he murmurs tiredly. “I’m about to faint.”

Daiki’s hold feels nice against his cool skin and he finds himself wishing Daiki wouldn’t let go right away despite his words, evaluating the distance that divides them and wondering how it would feel to close it, if Daiki is as warm as he looks; and he’s so used to this kind of ill-advised, unplanned wandering his mind loses itself in that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash in embarrassment and keeps watching Daiki like he isn’t thinking of undressing him on the spot.

“Well, this is a tent,” Daiki points out helpfully and his fingers seem to tighten on his wrist. “And there are two sleeping bags in it.”

Tetsuya’s sleepy eyes jolt open, alert. Heartbeat slowly accelerating, breath hitching behind his teeth for a second before he forces the regularity back, his mind screeches to a halt and it seems that suddenly its only reason for existence is to shower him with hopeful scenarios. He has to repeat mentally to himself that this is probably not what it looks like to make it relent.

“In which you and Momoi-san sleep,” he says cautiously.

But when Daiki does draw a bit closer and his voice drops low, becoming huskier as he answers, “ _Momoi-san_  won’t be sad if she comes back and discovers she has to sleep with Kagami,” every trace of sleepiness is wiped away, every nerve wired under Tetsuya’s skin as he desperately tries to convince himself that Daiki is only acting a bit weird.

Because he didn’t expect this, he isn’t  _prepared_ ; he hates how anticipation is coaxing its way into his chest since he can’t quite believe it and so he shuts it out and tries to take a step back because it’s difficult to think while Daiki is so close, towering over him and looking down right into his eyes with that unfathomable determination. He discovers he can’t.

“Can I admit that…” He gulps, forcing the words out even when they’re like pebbles stuck in his throat, “I’m a bit confused.”

As he talks, Daiki listens to him with his eyes lowered, following his own hand slipping from Tetsuya’s wrist down to his knuckles, fiddling gently with Tetsuya’s weak fingers.

But he’s not looking down anymore when the thinned line of his mouth opens and he heaves, in a sigh, “Well,” and closes the distance between them until Tetsuya can hear the vibration in Daiki’s throat, his deep soothing voice making him shiver as he cranes his neck down, stares at him with magnetic blue eyes that become the only thing Tetsuya can look at. His other hand reaches Tetsuya’s cheek and cups it and every bit of skin burns under his touch. Daiki tilts Tetsuya’s head up a bit more as he says, “Just to make myself clear, then.”

Everything about Daiki seems slowed down to a speed that’s inexplicably too slow and too fast at the same time. It’s unreal the way Daiki’s eyes fall shut as his lips hover within an inch from Tetsuya’s, breath ghosting over them warm and heady; Tetsuya can’t keep his eyes open anymore, all his concentration seized by the effort of keeping his erratic breath as even as he can while Daiki  _still_  doesn’t touch him, their soft pants the only thing Tetsuya’s ears hear aside from his heart going wild.

Anticipation feels like stark electricity running through his nerves and Daiki makes it worse the longer he keeps hovering so close, nose tickling Tetsuya’s cheek and thumb stroking the side of his face; but finally Daiki’s lips barely brush against his, drawing back right after and Tetsuya feels like whimpering until Daiki comes back and this time his mouth closes on his, once, twice, moistening his lips, moving against it with the gentlest of touches and still faintly tasting like vanilla. And Tetsuya is unable to do anything except stay still, even after Daiki’s fingers leave his own and the other draws back with a shuddering breath. When he opens his eyes again, Daiki’s watching him with calm resignation.

“It’s up to you,” he says. He stays there for a moment longer, maybe searching for some sign other than the daze Tetsuya feels trapped in, before the muscles of his jaw clench visibly under his dark skin as he stifles a sigh that's painful to hear, and goes to the entrance of his tent, disappearing into it in a shuffling of clothes.

Tetsuya doesn’t move. With his heart running rampant, he stares at the dark in front of him and tries to recollect his thoughts. ‘Calm down’, he says to himself, ‘calm down; Daiki kissed you but calm down,’ and he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, slowly, doesn’t stop until he feels the beat slow down and his shoulders relax.

When he can finally move again, he doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there like a statue. He figures it may have been a while since, when he slips inside the already open tent, he finds Daiki already lying on the mattress, half-tucked in his sleeping bag with one arm tossed over his face, covering his eyes.

For an appalling moment, he’s afraid Daiki’s already asleep. But Tetsuya hears his voice muttering something to himself in the silence before he stops abruptly when he realizes that the rustle at the entrance is Tetsuya’s doing. He shoots up into a sitting position as Tetsuya carefully avoids squashing Satsuki’s belongings and hesitantly plops down cross-legged on the mat.

Guilt makes a fast appearance now that Daiki is the one gazing at him in silence this time, looking like a completely different person than his collected self from seconds ago, as if that façade crumbled the moment he averted his eyes and entered the tent. It occurs to Tetsuya that Daiki can also be quite the brave one.

“It took you some time,” Daiki murmurs, looking mildly stressed out as he covers his eyes again, rubbing them with tired fingers.

“I’m sorry. But sometimes you’re just so—” he blurts out in defense, before realizing that what he’s about to say sounds way too corny and he’s pretty sure Daiki has stopped breathing; “So... you  _were_  ogling me,” he finishes lamely as he scratches his cheek, in a foolish attempt to break the tension.

But it does have its effect, because Daiki’s hand slips away from his face, lips cracking open in a bright, familiar smile Tetsuya didn’t know he missed so badly until that moment and he laughs so heartily, Tetsuya feels his eyes asking to drop closed to listen to it better. As he shuffles closer to the other with an eagerness that's difficult to mask, Daiki’s hand reaches the back of Tetsuya’s hair and, as Tetsuya instinctively leans into the touch, entangles his fingers in it, gingerly playing with the thin strands while he looks at Tetsuya with crinkled, vivid eyes.

“I  _may_  have,” Daiki chuckles as he draws Tetsuya’s head closer, until their lips are once again only a breath away from each other. “A bit.”

 

 

 

It’s like having had a puzzle; the first puzzle you ever had and you thought there could be nothing more beautiful than it. But apparently, it was never meant to fit together as a whole: the frame is all wrong and the pieces keep falling off, unable to stay attached to each other. You lock it away because it makes you frustrated and angry and there’s nothing you can do to solve the problem.

And then someone gives you a new one, a far larger one; you start with the frame and it comes out nice and right. The more you make it, the more beautiful it looks to you. But then you find out there are holes in it; you wonder, as you use the last of your available pieces, what you’re supposed to fill them with.

Then you remember. You remember you had a puzzle before, one that didn’t seem to make any sense even though you loved it so much. And as you take some of those old pieces, the best ones, and slide them onto the almost finished one, you discover that they fit; on a surface that becomes more and more splendid till it is the whole it’s supposed to be, they glide effortlessly until they all find their right place.

One by one, to the very last.

 

 

 

When he first wakes up to the anguished yell of “Takao!” booming not too far from him, he’s confused by the fact that the first thing he sees is the round collar of a black cotton shirt.

At the higher shriek of “What did you do to my lucky items?!” – followed by a much nearer and deeper “Fuck! What the hell do I have on my face— _Fuck_!” – he remembers where he is and his eyes gladly take in the sight of Daiki sleepily smirking at nothing in particular.

“Should we stand up?” Tetsuya asks, dismally, snuggling closer to the source of warmth even if he feels far too hot.

Daiki answers by hugging him tighter and burying his nose in Tetsuya’s hair, adding in a slur, “Absol’ly no.”

The second time, they are woken by Daiki’s cell phone signaling the arrival of a message. When Daiki blindly reaches for it and looks at it with half-lidded eyes shrinking away from the glaring screen, Tetsuya notices the faintest embarrassment on Daiki’s face before he throws the phone somewhere in the bundle of their sleeping bags and groans, “We should get out.”

Outside, from the two tables in the center of the circle of tents, everyone turns their gazes to the two of them exiting Daiki’s tent, flashing not-so-secretive smiles that probably go unnoticed only by Takao, whose chin slips off his palm in blatant sleepiness, and Taiga, too occupied stuffing his mouth with cereal like a starving beast.

But Tetsuya hardly takes into account anything that is not the familiar shade of red hair in the midst of colorful heads, the slim hand holding a closed book with an elegant bookmark sticking out of it, the other one lightly tapping its index finger on the table’s surface as his head calmly turns towards them.

“Good morning Tetsuya, Daiki.”

Tetsuya looks at him some more, just to be sure, before stating the obvious. “You came.”

Seijuuro gives him a long, reprimanding look. “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s not very kind of you.”

“I’m sorry.” As Daiki waits by his side, he breathes deeply. “Good morning, Akashi-kun.”

Seijuuro smiles faintly. “I was just saying to everyone that we’d better use one of those larger ground cloths to—”

He stops when Tetsuya strides forward to his camp chair, and looks at him uncharacteristically surprised when Tetsuya repeats, more firmly, “But I’m truly glad you came.”

Tetsuya doesn’t tear his eyes away from Seijuuro but, out of the corner of his eye, he notices Shintarou half-smiling behind his cup of coffee just as eerily as Atsushi; he notices Ryouta and Satsuki exchange content glances with each other and Taiga raise his head to smirk amusedly at Seijuuro. And when Daiki’s hand comes up to ruffle the top of his head from beside him, Tetsuya can  _hear_  him rolling his eyes.

However, Seijuuro only sighs exasperatedly before saying, “Please, Tetsuya, just have your breakfast.”

 

 

 

If there’s one thing he’s learnt in his life, it is how to keep walking on. He’s learnt to be strong enough to soar high and not care about the height stretching beneath him, because there’s no point in looking down and being scared of the dizziness and the shadows of a past now gone.

But honestly, he fears too-perfect things sometimes; there are days – rare occasions in which melancholy subtly blends in with his happiness, seeping through the tiny cracks that time left behind – when his eye slips away from focus and for a single, unsettling moment he finds himself looking down, looking  _back_. Before he can throw it back to where it came from, the unwanted pang of fear leaves a lingering worry and uncertainty in his chest that makes him feel too clingy, too possessive of what he has and wishes would never drift away again.

Luckily, he has more than one person to help him raise his chin back up when he finds it difficult to do it on his own.

 

 

 

“Don’t you ever feel like this is too much?” Tetsuya asks in doubt as his feet flatten the dewy grass on his way to the shore. “I feel like I’m living those best days all over again. What if… what if it ends up the same way? What if something goes wrong again? Perhaps things aren’t supposed to last between all of us. We  _are_  a weird group.”

Satsuki erupts into a sincere, tingling laughter as her hands find each other behind her back. “I think sometimes you should follow Dai-chan’s example and switch off that brain of yours, Tetsu-kun. Also,” she giggles, but not with the same carefree tone anymore, “I can’t help but believe you would be there to patch things up again and again, if needed. …It’s pretty egoistical for me to rely so much on you even when it’s about my own happiness, isn’t it? I want the same things you want, and yet I'm always letting you do all the hard work.”

Tetsuya doesn’t really know what to say to that and so they walk along down the hill, weaving amongst the trees, until they’re near enough to hear the shouts and the splashes.

“You know, Dai-chan gets lost in the past too sometimes, just like you—probably more. I think you both like comparing what was and what is too much and… you get scared of the similarities, the differences… everything.” When Satsuki is engrossed in deep thinking, she always nibbles lightly at her lower lip, eyebrows slightly drawn together over her lowered eyelids.

“But maybe it was those days that weren’t supposed to last because they weren’t really our days, don’t you think?” Satsuki continues, looking forward towards the shore. “We weren’t ready for them at the time. I like to think that those days, with the good and the bad, were just… a prelude for the real thing. Something that  _had_  to happen to bring us here to this very point.

“So maybe these are, Tetsu-kun.” She smiles kindly at him, the radiance of a sunny day reflecting in her twinkling eyes and on her candid cotton dress and she looks simply beautiful right then. “Maybe  _these_  are our best days.”


End file.
